


Sick Day

by thundercaya



Series: The Workplace Warzone [9]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:05:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7346263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundercaya/pseuds/thundercaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madison is home sick. Jefferson swings by to keep him company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Day

It was very unusual for Jefferson not to have received a text from Madison by now. Of course he could just send the first text himself, but usually the other man started the daily conversation with a complaint about burning his tongue on his coffee, or the gas station kiosk being broken, forcing him to pay inside and "make words this early" with the attendant. Sometimes it was a whole list of complaints, coming in quick, one right after another, so that Jefferson kept losing his place on his phone until the onslaught ended with an "anyway how are you?" Not so today. After checking his phone one more time, Jefferson sent a text of his own.

_If I haven't heard from you yet today does that mean you're having a GOOD day or...?_

The reply came a few minutes later. _Sorry I was sleeping. I stayed home sick today._

Jefferson frowned and sent a text back. _I know you were kind of sniffling yesterday. Got worse huh?_

 _Yesterday was just the preview._ was the reply. _Today I'm at death's door._ Then quickly; _No don't worry I'm fine._  
_I circle death's house pretty much constantly._  
_I'm kind of sitting on his porch right now but I'm_  
_not_  
_knocking_  
_or anything._  
_I don't have the key._  
_I'm just kind of there._  
_Just hanging around outside of death's house like I always do_  
_but_  
_closer_  
_than usual._  
  
Jefferson could barely keep up and he felt that Madison would go on forever if he didn't stop him. __

_All right I get it.  
Want me to pick you up anything after work? Or maybe on my lunch?_

_On your lunch definitely don't. I wouldn't want you to waste your limited time on me.  
After work don't either. I wouldn't want you to trouble yourself or get sick._

Well, "don't trouble yourself" wasn't the same thing as "leave me alone." Jefferson sent a thumbs up emoji. Let Madison take that however he wanted.

  


After a quick stop at Walgreens, Jefferson arrived at Madison's house. The gate was unlocked so he went right up to the door and rang the bell. He'd already given Madison a key to his place, but Madison had yet to reciprocate. Something about how Jefferson had lost his own keys in the city once, and how could Madison sleep at night if there was a copy of his house key floating around DC? It took a while for Madison to answer the door, which was unsurprising since he was probably asleep and really wasn't expecting Jefferson to actually show up. When he did appear he was wearing a loose-fitting Incredible Hulk t-shirt and faded sweat shorts. His eyes were red and watery, and the skin on his nose was peeling from overexposure to tissues. He didn't look especially happy to see Jefferson, and Jefferson would have attributed that to exhaustion if not for the fact that Madison actually looked mildly distressed. 

"Hello, James," Jefferson said cautiously.

"Thomas," Madison said. "I told you not to come."

Shit, maybe he _had_ meant "leave me alone."

"I know," Jefferson said, "but I thought you meant it the way a mom means it when she tells you not to get her anything for Mother's Day. She honestly won't mind if you don't, but she'll be thrilled if you do."

Madison's distressed expression gave way to one of contemplation.

"Did I misread you?" Jefferson asked, ready to shove the Walgreens bags into Madison's arms and leave if that was what he wanted.

"No, no," Madison assured. "You knew exactly what I meant. The thing is that _I_ didn't know I meant it, or I would have worn something nicer." 

Truly, this was the most dressed down Jefferson had ever seen him, even including other instances of sleepwear since Madison seemed to favor silk pajamas in that department. So he did want Jefferson's company and attention; what he hadn't wanted was for Jefferson to see him thrown into disarray by a cold. Sure, when Jefferson was in France and Madison was working to make him interested in the first place, he didn't think there was anything strange about Madison trying to look immaculate in every photo and video chat. However, now that Jefferson had been back for a while and had personally thrown Madison into disarray more than once, it seemed an unnecessary worry. Still, it wasn't so surprising coming from Madison; his categorization of what was and wasn't humiliating seemed to follow a formula he himself probably couldn't comprehend. 

"Well, come in then," Madison said, moving aside to let him. He pulled a face as he did so. "This is the worst."

"What is?" Jefferson asked, stepping inside and out of the way so Madison could shut the door.

"Vaporub on my feet," Madison said, heading for the kitchen and motioning for Jefferson to follow him. "It's disgusting."

"Why do you have Vaporub on your feet?"

"You put it on your feet then put socks on and it stops your cough. I don't know why it works, but it does, and it's fine if you stay in bed, but walking around feels gross."

"Lozenges don't work for you? I bought you some." Jefferson set his shopping bags on the counter and began to dig through them.

"They work well enough, but if I fall asleep with one in my mouth I'll probably die."

"Should I make you some tea?" Jefferson asked, pulling out a box.

"You didn't have to bring me all that," Madison said, frowning as Jefferson continued to unpack the bags. "That's too much."

"It's really no problem," Jefferson said. "Take what you want, and whatever you don't, I'll keep for my own supply. Do you want the tea or not?"

"Maybe later," Madison said. "With this fever, I shouldn't be putting anything hot in my body."

Jefferson smirked. "Well, there goes my next suggestion."

Madison narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips into a tight line. "A cold shouldn't be a sexually transmitted disease, Thomas. Don't try to make it one."

"Wow. If I had actually been in the mood, I wouldn't be now. Even so, I'm a world traveler with a top-notch immune system. No home-grown local cold is gonna put me down."

"And world travel would put me down for good." Madison picked up a box of Nyquil and tore it open, removing the bottle. "I'll take this for now, thank you." 

"But it's still early," Jefferson said, picking up a box of Dayquil. "You should take this one."

"I don't have to drive or perform surgery, so if you don't think I'm going to knock the fuck out whether you're here or not, you need to think again." Madison opened the bottle, poured out a dose, and drank it without a moment's hesitation. Jefferson was impressed that he didn't even seem to react to the bad taste.

"Well, if that's the plan, it's a good thing I bought this," Jefferson said, pulling a paperback out of one of the bags.

"A contingency plan," Madison said, rinsing out the dosage cup. "Good thinking." He nodded toward the hallway and Jefferson followed him, book in hand, to his bedroom. Jefferson turned his eyes down to watch Madison's ass as he walked ahead, which brought his attention back to the shorts.

"Wait, are those your PE shorts? From high school?"

Madison glanced down at them. "Yes?"

"They still fit you?"

"And just how much smaller do you think I could have possibly been at fourteen?"

"Right."

When they reached Madison's room, he threw a blanket over his shoulder and grabbed an armload of pillows. There was piano music playing from a set of shitty computer speakers connected to Madison's ancient click wheel iPod from 2007, because he couldn't just put his music on his phone like a normal person.

"Chopin?" Jefferson asked. "Is that your sick day soundtrack?"

Madison's expression faltered. "Actually, I should turn that off."

"Why? What's wrong with Chopin?"

Madison held the pillows tighter, like he had to keep himself from just throwing them aside and lunging for his iPod. "Nothing. Just.... It's on shuffle."

Jefferson grinned and picked up the iPod. "Really? What else do you have on here?" He clicked forward. "Mariah Carey. Okay." He clicked it again. "Gottschalk. Gershwin. Toni Braxton." He looked up at Madison who kept shifting from foot to foot.

"Thomas, please...."

"Just one more," Jefferson promised. He clicked forward again and snorted. "Twenty One Pilots?" Madison pressed his face into his pillows and Jefferson continued.  "So, much like your PE shorts, you never grew out of your emo phase?"

Madison lifted his head and said; "I'm too old to have had an 'emo phase.'"

"I see," Jefferson smirked. "And you feel you missed out?"

"Are you finished or do I need to keep standing here?"

Jefferson chuckled. "All right, I'm finished."

"Good. Now turn it off. We're going to the living room."

Jefferson shook his head. "You should get in bed."

"You came over. I can't just leave you out there by yourself while I sleep, even if you have a book."

"I was planning on lying in bed with you."

Madison pulled a face. "You don't want to do that."

"I already told you I won't get sick."

"That isn't the problem."

"It's fine," Jefferson said, placing a hand on the bed to climb on. He drew his hand back suddenly. "Oh, wow. That's... really damp."

Madison sighed. "I've been swimming in my sweat since last night."

"Do you want me to change the sheets?" Jefferson offered.

"I'll do it once my fever is gone for good. No point until then. Besides if it builds up enough maybe I'll drown in it. Grab that tissue box for me? And my phone."

Jefferson did so, then followed him out of the room. Madison dropped his cargo onto the couch and spent some time arranging it before settling in. Jefferson set the phone and tissue box on the side table closest to Madison. He was about to sit in the armchair when Madison curled up a bit, making room on the couch. Jefferson smiled and took the spot. Once he was seated, Madison stretched his legs back out over the man's lap.

"Tell me about your day," Madison said. "But don't get mad if I fall asleep."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jefferson said, running a hand down Madison's leg. "So, Hamilton--"

Madison hummed, the closest to a laugh he could manage right now. "You would open with that."


End file.
